


steady ground

by Chocchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: It's been a while since McCree was staying in one place with allies he could really trust for any length of time. It will take some getting used to.





	steady ground

**Author's Note:**

> my thanks to [nami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namibulous) and [liv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualExistence) for giving this a quick beta read!!  
> i fiddled with the ending a bit, but i think most of this has been in my drafts for like. a year now? cuz i wanted to expand on it more. but in the end i think it's okay on its own, and i can always turn it into a series if i change my mind.  
> as always, comments and constructive criticism are deeply appreciated!! love y'all

The first time Genji opens Jesse’s door after the recall, he looks straight down Peacekeeper’s barrel.

There’s a pause. Genji wouldn’t say it’s dramatic, the way you might expect finding a gun between your eyes to be. It’s more awkward—two people realizing separate miscalculations.

“I am not sure what I expected,” he says. Jesse is already lowering the gun. “I probably should have knocked. My apologies.”

“Nah,” Jesse says, gruffly. He won’t meet Genji’s eyes. “S’my fault. Sorry. Shoulda recognized your footsteps.”

Except he shouldn’t have. Seven years is a long time, and Genji doesn’t exactly walk heavily.

“Better I feel awkward for a moment than you get shot when it really _is_ an enemy,” Genji says, instead.

“Somehow I don’t think some of the newbies will have your wise practical perspective,” Jesse huffs. He turns away from Genji and puts Peacekeeper down on the bedside table again. Genji takes the unspoken invitation and steps further into the room. It’s nothing like Jesse’s room from Overwatch’s prime days, where his belongings were scattered haphazardly around the room and everything had the familiar tang of smoke. The closet is empty—he must be living out of the duffel bag next to the bed, still—and the room smells disconcertingly sterile. Jesse must be taking his cigars elsewhere.

He’s ready to pick up and flee at a moment’s notice. Genji’s heart aches with empathy for Jesse, so ready to have the rug pulled out from under him again, prepared to lose and lose and lose and keep on moving, keep going, find the next safe house.

“For example,” Jesse says, and it takes Genji a moment to remember the thread of the conversation, “I doubt Dr. Zhou would be too keen to find a gun in her face when she opened a door.”

“Dr. Zhou will have the good manners and good sense to knock,” Genji says.

“You sayin’ you don’t have good manners and good sense?” Jesse says, a dry smile curving up the edges of his lips. It’s the most Genji has seen him smile since their reunion.

“I am saying I must have forgotten one or the other,” Genji says, wryly, “If I thought it was a good idea to open a wanted man’s door with no warning.”

He moves slowly, broadcasting his movements before he makes them so Jesse has time to move away. Jesse stays put, but still won’t meet his eyes. Not even when Genji steps all the way into his personal space and sets his hands loosely over Jesse’s own.

“It is not your fault for having keen reflexes,” Genji says, firm and low.

“It’s my damn fault for not bein’ able to tell friend from foe,” Jesse mutters. “I should be better than this.”

“You _are_ better than that. But you are in a new environment, and you are still adjusting.”

Jesse finally looks up at him, even if it’s only to give him a sullen scowl.

“Do you know,” Genji says. “The first time Zenyatta woke me unexpectedly, I threw shuriken at him?”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” Genji confirms, and Jesse cracks that dry smile again. “New ally, unfamiliar place. Still adjusting.”

“First time, though,” Jesse says. “S’different. I’ve had three weeks.”

“You do not unlearn seven years of watching your back in three weeks,” Genji says.

“But it’s _you_.”

Genji pauses. Jesse is still looking at him, smile gone and eyes tired. They always are, these days; he hides it well, but Genji has known him too long to miss the subtle signs of perpetual exhaustion and stress.

Right now, though, it’s blatant.

“Always told myself that you could have walked into any of my safe houses and it’d be fine,” Jesse says, quietly. “I—shit. I wanted to trust you. I _do_ trust you. You’re trustworthy.”

“Thank you,” Genji says, slowly and carefully picking his words. “I am honored by your trust. But I think you need to be kinder to yourself.”

Jesse scoffs. Genji tightens his grip on Jesse’s hands.

“Seven years since you heard my footsteps,” he says. “My prosthetics are different. I walk differently now, as well. What was there for you to recognize?”

Jesse stares down at their hands.

“This does not mean that there is no trust between us,” Genji says, firmly. “It means there is a learning curve. Just like fighting with the new team, yes?”

“A learning curve, huh,” Jesse mutters.

“Yes,” Genji says. “We are neither of us the same people we were seven years ago. We will relearn each other. There is no shame in that.”

“Jesus, Genji,” Jesse says, shaking his head with a choked laugh. “You’re really gonna make me deal with the fact that you’ve gotten more emotionally stable while I fucked myself up, huh?”

“You did not _fuck yourself up_ ,” Genji snaps. “Other people betrayed your trust. It was _not your fault_.”

“Was kinda my fault,” Jesus mumbles, and Genji can’t take it any more. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, dragging him down into a hug. Jesse stiffens for a second, and Genji wonders if he’s gone too far. The moment passes, though, and Jesse melts into his arms, burying his face against Genji’s neck. Genji is glad he left his armor in his room, so Jesse’s face is pressed against soft silicone and not cold metal.

“I should’ve figured out something was wrong,” Jesse whispers.

“You did,” Genji whispers back.

“I should’ve _fixed it_.”

“You tried.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you did not leave until you had a screaming match with Reyes like no one had ever seen before.” The entire base had probably known that. For stealth operatives, Reyes and Jesse were both capable of putting their lungs to good use when it suited them.

Jesse is quiet for a long minute. Then: “Why didn’t he listen to me, Genji?”

“I do not know,” Genji says. He closes his eyes and leans his head on top of Jesse’s. There is nothing he can say here that will fix this. He hates it, but he knows. “I am sorry. I do not know.”

“I should have stayed and kept trying. _You_ stayed.”

“You knew Reyes better than anyone in Blackwatch. If anything, I should have taken the cue and followed you out.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I did not think you wanted me to.”

A pause.

“I didn’t,” Jesse says, finally. “I would’ve yelled at you. Would’ve been a big fight. Prob’ly woulda said some shit I’d regret.”

“I thought you said you trusted me?”

“Shit, Shimada, it wouldn’t have been about trust.” Genji can feel Jesse’s jaw clenching against his neck. “I was so fuckin’—God. I was angry and scared. I _am_ angry and scared. All the time.”

“I know.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here? Learning curve, right? This ain’t gonna stop any time soon. Not much fun for you.”

“Can I ask you something?” Genji says, instead of answering.

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

“What were you doing when you befriended me,” Genji says. “Back when I first joined Blackwatch?”

Jesse is silent.

“When I was angry, and scared, and I trusted no one? Was that fun for you?”

“That was different,” Jesse says, sulkily enough that Genji knows he’s made his point.

“Was it?” Genji asks, lightly. He starts rubbing his hand in small circles over Jesse’s back.

“Hurt to see someone hurting that much. Even when you were being a shithead. You needed a friend.”

“Don’t you?”

“We’re _already_ friends. I _got_ friends. You got full rights to back out and not deal with my bullshit.”

“I know,” Genji says, again. “But I will not.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I cannot believe _you_ managed to say that entire sentence with a straight face,” Genji says, just because he knows it will make Jesse bark out a surprised laugh.

“Ain’t nothin’ straight about my face and you know it.”

“I do,” Genji agrees, and turns his face to press a kiss against Jesse’s hair.

There’s another pause.

“You still—?“

“What?”

“Genji, you’re nuts.”

“What?” Genji repeats, much more indignantly this time.

“We were just _talkin_ ’ ‘bout how I’m not the same man anymore.”

“You are still Jesse,” Genji says. “You are still a good man. I have not seen anything yet that has convinced me otherwise.”

“Yeah, well,” Jesse laughs again, but it sounds bitter and raw now. “Gimme another three weeks.”

From where they’re standing, Genji can see into the duffelbag next to Jesse’s bed. He really is still living out of it, ready to run at a moment’s notice. Ready to lose.

“That does not seem fair,” Genji says. He keeps his face pressed to the top of Jesse’s head. “Three weeks is not enough time to decide anything. I will give you longer, to be on the safe side.”

“You said it yourself, that neither of us are the same people we were last time we met.”

That’s true enough. But Genji looks at Jesse and he still sees the same core, the same heart. It’s just a lot more battered and a lot more guarded than it used to be.

“I missed you,” he says. “Whoever you are now. I missed you while we were gone. And seven years is a long time to miss a person.”

“Genji—“

“If you are not interested anymore,” Genji says, “I accept that. If you are not ready, I accept that too. We can go slow, or not at all, and either way I will be your friend. I need you to understand that.”

Jesse pulls away, and Genji lets him go. He doesn’t go far, doesn’t even break the loop of Genji’s arms around his shoulders. He just lifts his head enough to meet his tired eyes to Genji’s own.

“Say it again?”

“I will be your friend,” Genji says. “No matter what you choose. I promise.”

“No,” Jesse says. His cheeks have gone a little pink. “The—the other part. I—ah, fuck. I guess ‘again,’ isn’t really right, but—“

“I still love you. I never stopped.”

“We weren’t even together for real back then.”

“Because I was not ready,” Genji says. “Like you are not ready right now, I think. You waited for me. I can wait for you. I _will_ wait for you, if that is what you want.”

Jesse is quiet again.

“And if you do not know what you want right now,” Genji says, “That is okay. It is all okay. We will figure things out, you do not have to know everything already.”

“Genji, if you don’t stop being so fucking understanding I’m gonna cry,” Jesse says.

“Then cry,” Genji says, without hesitation.

Jesse’s face screws up with emotion, sharp and desperate like Genji hasn’t seen him since the weeks before he walked out on Blackwatch. For a long moment Genji thinks he really will cry; instead, he drops his face back into Genji’s shoulder and takes a long, shuddering breath. Genji goes back to rubbing his back without a word, keeping his own breathing steady in case Jesse needs to use him as a guide.

“…Went off and got all mature on me,” Jesse mumbles, against his shoulder.

“I am thirty-five,” Genji says, a little amused despite himself and the situation at hand. “It was about time.”

“I’m startin’ to think Zenyatta hid the real Genji in a cave somewhere in Nepal.”

“I was not _that_ bad.”

“Oh, man,” Jesse snorts. “I’m not even gonna touch that one. Wow.”

“I’ll let this slide,” Genji says, “But only because it’s you.”

“I will wield this power with great irresponsibility,” Jesse vows, and it’s Genji’s turn to laugh. He curls the hand that’s not rubbing Jesse’s back up to cradle the back of his head, threading his fingers through Jesse’s hair. Here is another piece of Jesse that hasn’t changed; he still pushes into it like a cat being stroked. Slowly, slowly, the tension bleeds back out of him, until he moves his hands to wrap around the small of Genji’s back.

“’S not gonna be easy,” Jesse murmurs. He sounds more sleepy than sad.

“I know,” Genji says. _Nothing worth doing is_ , he doesn’t say.

“I’m not ready,” Jesse says. It’s small, quiet, a confession.

“That is fine.”

“But I—shit. You know I still—“ he clenches his hands in the back of Genji’s sweatshirt. “I missed you too. Thought about you all the fuckin’ time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like—the cats. You remember the goddamn cats? The ones we used to feed out by the supply sheds, even though Reyes kept telling us not to?”

“Of course,” Genji says.

“S’what I missed,” Jesse says. “You ‘n’ the damn cats. And Fareeha, of course.”

“We should get another one,” Genji says, thoughtfully. “A cat. I doubt Winston will refuse us.”

Jesse laughs, real and light for all that it’s over quickly.

“Abusin’ our position as senior agents already?”

“Lena will back us up,” Genji says. “And you know Winston won’t argue with her.”

“She always struck me as more of a dog person,” Jesse says.

“That is because she decided to save her two hour presentation of pictures of her girlfriend and their two cats for week four,” Genji says. “She does not want to scare you away too soon.”

Jesse starts to talk, then stops. This repeats a few more times before he just burrows his face back against Genji’s neck.

“We all want you here,” Genji says, soft and sure. “Everybody. We will all help, Jesse. However long it takes.”

 “Okay,” Jesse says. He sounds like he barely believes it, but Genji will take barely. “Okay.”

They stand there for another long minute, still holding onto each other. Right as Genji is about to suggest they move to the bed, or the chair, or anyplace, really, Jesse lifts his head again.

“What, uh. What did you actually come here to talk about, by the way?”

“Oh,” Genji says. It’s been—an hour, at least.  “Uh. Dinner was ready. But—“

Jesse starts to laugh.

“There are always leftovers,” Genji offers, helpless to offer anything but a sheepish, hopelessly endeared smile in the face of Jesse’s crinkled eyes and grin.

“When Reinhardt’s at the table? Honey, you know better,” Jesse says, shaking his head.

 _Honey_. It’s not the first time Genji’s heard him say it since the recall, not quite. But every other time has been another carefully calibrated part of Jesse’s façade. A facet of his larger-than-life cowboy persona, drawn out and drawling like an impersonator of his own younger self. This time, though. This time he says it like Genji remembers it. Thoughtless, automatic, lighthearted. Slipped into his sentences without forethought. There’s love behind it—love for Genji, certainly. But also love for himself. Love for life, for the world.

 _Yes_ , Genji thinks, as he curls a hand into Jesse’s to lead him to the kitchen. Jesse McCree is a changed man. But he is still Jesse, Genji’s Jesse, at his core. He just needs to find steady ground under his feet again. Maybe it will take more than another three weeks for him to relax. It could be three months. It could be three years. But Genji is sure that if he gives it enough time, if they can be patient enough to relearn each other, he will be able to open Jesse’s door with no warning and Jesse will turn to him with a smile instead of a gun.

And he’s willing to wait.


End file.
